As I write this blog entry, I am looking out at the trees that are proudly displaying their annual array of golden and red colors. I love this time of year, but I also know that as October 19th appears on the calendar, another year is passing without my father-in-law, Tom, and without Cheryll. Time marches on and on and on and on and on…. This is the fifth entry I’ve posted on October 19th. Five years that have been spent learning about Cheryll and her unsolved murder, but also meeting some incredibly strong, determined, genuine people who cared for Cheryll, who still think of her often, and others who are also pursuing answers for their loved ones who have unresolved cold cases.

I’ll admit that this past year I’ve stepped back from the case. It wasn’t necessarily a planned decision, but something that has happened as life is happening around me. I have not forgotten Cheryll. I have not given up on her. But I’ve found that another way to honor her young life is by investing in the lives of my three children. In the midst of helping with homework, washing the clothes, making the meals, and driving, driving, driving to sporting events, I make sure to engage with them. I look at them in their faces and have genuine conversation. I find myself saying, “Momma loves you” when I part from them. This didn’t just grow from Cheryll’s horrific death, but also from parents who’ve lost their children reminding me to love my kids hard. And that’s what I’m doing. So this year on October 19th, I have a big ask of you, the reader. Please think not about how Cheryll died, but think about how to honor her in ways that you live.

The case is not closed. The case is not solved. The investigators are still welcoming leads. This year, there have been individuals who reached out to me and others who have reached out to detectives to share names of folks that may hold information, names of people to investigate more closely, and even to ask that we look closely at members of their own families. Time marches on and on and on and on and on, but it also so very slowly continues to peel away the cloak of darkness that has concealed the light for so long. Someone knows the truth and maybe this will be the year that they make the call to the authorities to help put the period at the end of the sentence.

*****

Tom, if you were still alive, you’d be 74 years old today. You’ve been physically gone from our lives for 17 years, but your presence is still felt in our lives. (Recently at a Rowland family gathering, my brother-in-law found an old VHS tape of a home movie. It was of my husband’s 14th birthday gathering with his family and his grandparents. As the video tape flickered and began to roll, there before those of us gathered around the television, was Tom). I found myself sitting in awe– it’s the first time I’ve seen a video of you possibly since you died. And there you were– talking and moving just as I have remembered you. I imagine you smiling proudly as we, your family, all squealed and gasped with delight upon seeing you on the screen. I envision you sitting right next to my 14-year-old daughter as she sat in awe upon seeing you, her Pawpaw, on video– a man she’s only seen in photos and heard endearing stories about. The next day, she shared with me that she couldn’t stop thinking about you. “I loved seeing him. It’s just like I’ve imagined and I hope we can find more videos. Seeing dad’s dad makes me so happy.” There was a light around her as she spoke of you and it truly was a little gift that brought such joy to our lives right now when we think of you on your birthday. Perhaps you knew that we all needed that lift-me-up this year. I feel like the timing was your way of letting us know that you truly are around us as we continue to live life, missing you.

Happy Birthday, Tom. Happy Birthday, Cheryll. You are both missed. You were both loved. And neither of you are forgotten.